


you’re lucky that’s what I like

by zenstrike



Series: you’re lucky that’s what i like [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, hamster shenanigans, idk how to tag this really, klance roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 12:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15073403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenstrike/pseuds/zenstrike
Summary: Lance rescues a hamster from certain doom.or, Lance has Keith wrapped around his little finger and doesn’t even realize it.





	you’re lucky that’s what I like

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Тебе повезло: это то, что мне нравится](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18629131) by [Altie23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altie23/pseuds/Altie23), [SollyDoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SollyDoll/pseuds/SollyDoll)



> I SHOULD NOTE that where I am legal drinking age is 18 so residence parties aren’t that weird?
> 
> Big thank you to spooky_mars for being a hero and helping me edit this into something coherent!

   

    November 1 was a Saturday and already getting cold, which meant Lance wasn’t going to be able to call home without his mother saying how “ _she was right”_ and “ _it’s too cold there, darling”_ and his step-mother saying “ _Regina he’s a grown up_ ” and his mother replying “ _he’s only eighteen”_ —

    Anyways, it was cold. And Lance was hungover.

    There was still a pile of people passed out in the downstairs lounge, which Lance thought was okay as he passed them. Even Lance’s roommate was still out, buried under his sheets upstairs and grunting in his sleep while his stupid hair stuck out in weird, hedgehog-like directions.

    Lance had a thing about rodents.

    He noticed the cold the moment he stepped outside.

    “Yikes,” he said out loud and shivered.

    As he stepped out of the parking lot he turned sharply left, refusing to look at the looming buildings of main campus and the midterm threat they represented. Usually, his morning runs helped clear his head: no midterms, no physics lab or astro final looming; no calculus homework or bio paper he wasn’t even sure how to write; no crowded libraries or the pressing sense of inadequacy that made his insides all impatient and squirrely.

    Today, all he could think about was vomit. And McDonald’s.

    Gross.

    Better than the other stuff, though.

    He didn’t make it far before he had to stop. Every step seemed to shake his whole body, and Lance was starting to promise his poor belly and head that he would never drink again. A light wind blew something sharp and cold and distinctly winter-y in his face.

    He reached the usual midpoint of his run and started his ragged way down the long stairs to the park below. Manicured grass spread out before him, draped in morning sunlight and— _was that frost?_ He threw himself to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest. He ignored the cold wetness under his butt. He rested his chin on one knee.

The park was huge and mostly empty. He saw a pair of fellow joggers, their ponytails bouncing, and a small group of folks doing what was probably tai chi. Or yoga. Lance wasn’t always sure what the difference was. Closer to him, under a tree, were a boy and girl probably around his age crouched over something in the grass.

    Lance blinked.

    The girl was crying while the boy rubbed her back. Something small and round lumbered out from their cupped hands.

    They stood. She waved at the ground.

    Lance lifted his head.

    He could see the small, round thing waddling through the short grass, wiggling and with its hair blowing in the light breeze.

    He gaped.

    “Oh no,” Lance said to no-one. “Oh _no_.”

    The boy and girl were turning away just as Lance leapt to his feet. The three of them stared at each other.

    They ran.

    Lance dashed towards the thing in the grass.

    “Oh no,” he said, crouching. “Oh no.”

* * *

 

 

    Lance had a thing about rodents.

    About most animals, really. But rodents.

 

* * *

 

 

    “Lance,” Keith said when he came back to their room, his hair dripping and his face pale and exhausted. “It’s gross but we’ve got to eat something. Not from downstairs. I’m thinking Mc—“

    Keith froze as their door clicked shut behind him.

    Lance stared. He thought: oh no. He was in trouble. Big trouble.

    The hamster squirmed in his rearranged sweater, settling into a sleepy ball.

    Lance’s heart pounded.

    “Oh,” he said, forcing himself to sound casual. He mostly sounded high-pitched. “Hey!”

    He didn’t say: I kind of forgot you live here, too! He didn’t say: look what I found on my run!

    “What,” Keith said, raising a finger. “The _fuck_ —“

 

* * *

 

 

    “Keith!”

    Hunk’s smile faltered as Keith slammed the door to his and Lance’s room shut.

    Keith looked a mess, hovering in the hallway with big eyes and wet hair and an obviously hungover face.

    Hunk was glad, not for the first time, that he wasn’t keen on the whole drinking thing. Not that he thought Lance and Keith were either, but when one got the other going—

    Keith blinked at him.

    Hunk jogged the rest of the way down the hall. “Is Lance up?”

    Keith blinked again. “Nope,” he said, and turned on his heel.

 

* * *

 

 

    Lance was all geared up for a fight to the death defending his rescued hamster-friend when Keith returned, twenty minutes later, his arms full of coffee and the stupidly expensive breakfast sandwiches from the downstairs cafeteria. And a small bag of sunflower seeds.

    The hamster was still asleep on Lance’s lap.

    They stared at each other.

    “I brought food,” Keith said, and if it were any other day him sounding so lame and exhausted would have been delightful; but Lance was also feeling pretty lame and exhausted, so—

    “I don’t know if I can eat.”

    “You’ll feel like crap if you don’t.”

    Lance scowled. “Hangover expert, are we?”

    Keith grimaced. “My brother gives weirdly specific advice,” he said, like that was an explanation.

    “You have a brother?”

    “You have a hamster?”

    Lance looked back down at his lap. “I guess?”

    Keith sighed. He set the food and tray of coffee (also holding the bag of sunflower seeds) on the bed next to Lance and then began rummaging under his desk on the other side of the room.

    “What are you doing?”

    Keith grunted. “We need to put it in something.”

    “You’re not getting rid of her!”

    Keith emerged from under his desk, holding a flimsy box that Lance knew had once been the home of a year’s worth of highlighters. Keith bought things in bulk. He set the box on Lance’s desk, then began pulling liberally from Lance’s box of _name-brand tissues_.

    “Hey!”

    Keith ignored him and started shoving the tissues into the highlighter box.

    When he turned around, Lance saw “DO NOT EAT” written in thick, black marker on the side of the box.

    Keith saw him looking and scowled.

    “My brother thinks he’s funny,” he said, like _that_ was an explanation.

    Keith crossed their tiny room in two steps.

    “Where are the highlighters?” Lance asked, his head spinning.

    “My backpack.”

    “ _All_ of them?”

    “What’s left.”

    “ _How_ —“

    “Everything seems important, okay!” Keith held out the box. “Put her in, Lance.”

    Lance bent protectively over his lap. He thought he could hear the hamster snoring. “You’re not getting rid of her, mullet!”

    Keith squinted. The corners of his mouth seemed pinched. His hair was starting to dry and look hilariously chaotic. “It’s not a mullet,” he said through gritted teeth.

    “I know a mullet when I see one.”

    “I’m not getting rid of the hamster, Lance. Just put her in the box.”   

Lance eyed him. Slowly, he straightened and scooped the little (fat) hamster into his hands. “Don’t hurt her,” he warned.

Keith rolled his eyes. “You really think I hurt tiny animals?”

Lance shrugged. The hamster’s limbs flailed against his hands as he slipped her into the box. She, admittedly, looked kind of comfy in all the tissues. As Lance and Keith watched, she re-settled and was back in a ball in a moment.

Freaking adorable.

“Lance,” Keith said. “Where did you get a hamster from?”

“The park,” Lance replied honestly.

Delicately, Keith set the box by Lance’s pillow and sat down. “Pass me a sandwich,” he said. “No. Coffee. Pass me coffee.”

”The stuff downstairs is gross and four dollars,” Lance grumbled.

”Coffee, Lance.”

Lance wrested one of the cups out of the tray and handed it over. Keith, because today was the weirdest day that had ever happened _ever_ , said a soft “thanks.”

There was a plastic cracking as Keith lifted the lid off the cup. He drank it surprisingly quietly, and surprisingly quickly, though Lance supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: the weekend before, Keith had been bent over his laptop and surrounded by papers for literally thirteen hours, leaving only for more coffee and more donuts and probably (probably) to pee.

University made a mess of them all.

”You can’t keep her,” Keith said and chewed at the rim of his already half-empty cup. “No animals in res.”

Lance scowled. “Oh boy,” he said, dramatic and sarcastic. “Oh _boy_. I had forgotten. I’m so stupid. I’m so lucky you’re here to help me out.”

”I’m serious, Lance.”

Lance threw his hands up. Keith jerked away, protectively curling around his coffee.

”What am I supposed to do, huh? They were going to leave her out there to _die_! Winter is coming, Keith! She’ll freeze!”

”How do you know she’s a she?”

“How do you know she’s not?”

They both looked towards the little box, then back at each other.

“You could get in big trouble,” Keith said. “You could get kicked out.” He paused. “We could both get kicked out.”

“Only if they find out!”

Keith blinked. He raised an eyebrow.

Lance deflated. He shoved his sweater off his lap and let it crumple to the ground. He wondered if the hamster had peed on it.

“Oh yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m such a bad guy. Couldn’t just leave a hamster alone in the park.”

”You can’t keep her, Lance,” Keith replied. His tone was soft but his voice echoed around his coffee cup as he held it close to his face, eyeing Lance. “I’m not joking.”

Lance knew this. Keith knew this.

“Lance,” Keith started.

”I couldn’t just leave her there,” Lance muttered and sat on his hands.

When he looked up, Keith was watching him. Lance realized, finally, that they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and that Keith smelled like soap and coffee and that Lance, himself, probably smelled like ass. Ass and sweat and hamster.

“Okay,” Keith said. He looked back at his coffee. Something twitched over his face and he took a long gulp of coffee and licked his lips. Finally: “We’ll figure it out.”

 

* * *

 

 

(Keith, for his part, had a _thing_ about Lance.

Shiro liked to laugh about it, but we all have our weaknesses.)

 

* * *

 

 

The sandwich Keith had all but forced into Lance’s hands wasn’t sitting well but he felt better overall. He ate, he drank the massive coffee, and he showered, and when he got back to their room Keith was in a sweater and sitting on Lance’s bed with the boxed hamster in his lap.

Lance considered this.

Keith looked up.

“Get off my bed,” Lance said.

Keith rolled his eyes and didn’t move. He held up his phone. “I think I have a list of things we need.”

Lance pushed a hand through his wet hair. “Hamster things?”

“Hamster things.” Keith shrugged. “Found a pet store, too.”

Lance dropped his towel and shower things at the end of his bed and flopped next to Keith. He watched the sleeping hamster.

“She needs a name,” he said, thoughtful.

“She needs food,” Keith said, and Lance knew he was thinking about the bag of sunflower seeds now sitting on Lance’s desk. The hamster had not been interested.

“And a bed,” Lance added, his excitement growing.

Keith looked at his phone again. “Bus leaves in ten minutes.”

In the hall, and after Keith had convinced Lance to leave the hamster in her box, Hunk caught them.

“Dude,” he said. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks, Hunk,” Lance deadpanned. “You’re a good friend.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“We’re heading out,” Keith cut in, turning away from their locked door.

Hunk blinked and there was a shift in his expression that made Lance feel suddenly self-conscious, and his face suddenly warm.

“Oh,” Hunk said. “Where to?”

“Shopping,” Lance said.

“Come on.” Keith touched his elbow. “Later, Hunk.”

“Uh, okay.” Hunk waved. “See you guys later?”

It felt a little like a sin not to tell Hunk _immediately_ about the hamster. It also felt a little exciting.

They ran to the bus stop together.

 

* * *

 

 

They sat together on the bus. Lance leaned against the window while Keith rested his head on the seat in front of them. The map was open on Keith’s phone, the little blue dot that was them moving steadily along.

The bus was quiet and mostly empty for a while.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asked eventually. The bus pulled to a stop and a trio of giggling girls boarded, all of them looking rumpled and cold.

Lance looked at Keith out of the corner of his eye, refusing to lift his head. “Fine,” he said, and maybe it came out a little defensively.

Keith hummed and lifted his head. He sat back and crossed his arms. “You had a lot to drink last night.”

Lance huffed. A lady with a stroller boarded the bus. “So did you.”

“Not as much as you.”

“Guess I win, then.”

Keith laughed, short and low. “Congratulations.”

The bus rumbled along.

“You can go to sleep,” Keith said and shifted next to Lance. “I’ll wake you up when we get close.”

“I’ve got a huge amount of coffee and fat in me,” Lance said. “There’s no way I’m going to sleep.”

“Give it a try.”

Lance eyed him, frowning. “...fine. Don’t leave me behind.”

“You’ve got a weird opinion of me,” Keith muttered. “Just close your eyes.”

Lance huffed again and closed his eyes. He had a split-second of thinking that he wouldn’t be able to turn his brain off long enough to sleep, and then he was out.

 

* * *

 

When Keith woke him, the bus was bustling and loud. Lance blinked drowsily, Keith’s voice in his ear.

“Come on. We’re the next stop.”

They were in a part of the city that Lance didn’t recognize. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

Keith’s hand was on his elbow again, but when Lance looked at him Keith had let go and was standing up.

“Ugh,” Lance groaned, shuffling after Keith.

The bus skidded to a stop just as he stood, and there was Keith again, holding him upright.

“Excuse us,” Keith muttered, shouldering his way passed a tall, glowering man.

Lance followed.

The cold air was refreshing now. Lance took in a long breath and stretched his arms over his head with a grunt.

“Feel any better?” Keith slipped his phone into his hoodie pocket.

“A bit,” Lance admitted. He yawned again.

Keith led the way across the mostly full parking lot. The inside of the pet store was warm and bright and smelled like Lance’s family’s dog. He wrinkled his nose, studying the worn aisle signs. A dog barked further in the store.

“Okay,” Keith said, looking at his phone again. “First thing—“

Lance wandered away, eyes trained on the “small animals” sign above a nearby aisle. He could hear birds, and he could see the fish tanks glimmering under the harsh store lights.

“Where are you going?”

Keith’s sneakers squeaked against the floor as he followed.

Lance hummed. “Don’t you want to know what kind of hamster she is?”

“She’s the kind of hamster that needs to eat and sleep in something comfortable.”

Lance rolled his eyes and darted down the aisle. Fish accessories surrounded him, but at the end he saw the plastic-framed cages familiar to every pet store ever.

“Lance.”

Lance skidded to a stop in front of the boxes and crouched, his nose almost bumping against the plastic covering.

A hamster, just a fluffy as the one on his bed but in a slightly lighter colour, was sleeping soundly.

He managed not to coo.

“You just found a hamster,” Keith said behind him. “You don’t need another one.”

“This is important research,” Lance sighed.

After a moment, Keith crouched next to him. “Do you think she’s a teddy bear hamster?”

Lance gasped. He brushed a finger across the little label. “That’s adorable.”

“I guess.”

He turned his head to look at Keith, something rude on the tip of his tongue, and froze. Keith blinked back at him, and there they were, shoulder to shoulder again. Keith was smiling, just a bit, but it was—confusing.

Lance held his breath.

“Let’s get her one of those balls,” Keith said after a moment.

“What?”

Keith looked back at the hamster and shrugged. “You know. The hamster ball. The one they run around in.”

“Oh.” Lance blinked. “Yeah. Let’s.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you have any bags that don’t say ‘Petsmart’?” Keith asked at the checkout.

“No?” the cashier said, raising an eyebrow.

Keith sighed, and Lance couldn’t stop looking at him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are you being like this?” Lance asked when they got on the bus back. The bags were crowded onto their laps.

“Like what?” Keith grumbled without looking at him.

“I don’t know.” Lance paused. “Nice, I guess.”

Keith looked at him. He opened his mouth, and then closed it and shook his head. He looked forward again so Lance did too, hugging the bag with their hamster’s food and new ball close to his middle.

“Lance,” Keith said as the bus rumbled through an intersection. “Do you…” He trailed off.

“What?”

“Last night,” Keith continued. “Do you remember coming back to our room?”

Lance considered this. He remembered—Hunk, shooing him away. He remembered looking at their door. He also remembered Keith under the blinking lights in the commandeered lounge on their residence’s first floor, raising a beer in mock salute.

His stomach dropped. “Did I do something?”

“No,” Keith replied quickly. “I was just wondering.”

“I was really drunk,” Lance said, like it was an explanation rather than an excuse. “Whatever I did—“

“You didn’t do anything,” Keith said. “You were just really drunk.”

Like it was an explanation rather than excuse.

“What do you want to name her?” Keith asked, and Lance was thankful for the distraction.

 

* * *

 

They took the stairs to their room on the seventh floor because nobody ever took the stairs, no matter how disgusting the elevators got. Keith led the way, showing off how much better shape he was in (varsity volleyball, Lance remembered) and muttering hamster-care facts to himself as they went.

“Clean the cage once a week,” Keith muttered at floor five. “Don’t put her in the ball without supervision. Clean out droppings every day. Hard-boiled eggs as a treat.”

“Geez,” Lance said.

Keith ignored him.

Their floor was mostly clear, except for one of the Ryans passed out on the couch with his 3DS dangling from one hand. Keith and Lance cast him a quick look, then scurried down their brightly lit hall. Lance could hear yelling from the girls’ wing.

“Okay,” he said when they were standing in their room. “Okay.”

“Right,” Keith agreed.

They hovered over the hamster, still asleep in her box.

“Red,” Lance decided. “Her name is Red.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup. Just look at her!”

“I can’t believe this,” Keith grumbled and tore into the shopping bags.

 

* * *

 

 

It was late afternoon when they finished setting up Red’s new home in the spot between their desks. Lance lifted her gently from the highlighter box and set her on her shavings. They crouched by the cage together and watched her waddle about, exploring and sniffing. When she started to drink from her little bowl, they both let out a breath. Lance fell back and folded his legs.

“She’s fat,” Keith said.

“Take that back!”

“A fact’s a fact, Lance.”

Red finished drinking and sniffed the area around her bowl. She pooped, sniffed that, and then wandered into the little fake-cave they had picked out for her.

“I need a nap,” Keith said and fell back, laying flat and spreading his arms.

Lance hugged his knees and looked over his shoulder at Keith. He squirmed and chewed at his bottom lip. “Hey,” he said eventually. Keith opened his eyes. “Thanks. For, uh, everything.”

Keith propped himself up on his elbows and studied Lance. “You’re welcome,” he said eventually, seriously.

Something flustered and warm was building in Lance’s chest. He cleared his throat and looked back at Red’s cage, then back to Keith. “I owe you for the sandwich.”

“It’s fine.”

“It was actually pretty greasy.”

Keith laughed. Lance smiled and some of the tension seeped away. He looked away and rested his chin on one knee. Red hadn’t come out of her cave yet. Probably sleeping again.

“Hamsters are nocturnal,” Keith said, like he could read Lance’s mind. “And she’s had a long day.”

“Why do you think they left her?”

Keith sat up, warm and close next to Lance. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re in res, too.”

“Maybe,” Lance agreed.

“Maybe they didn’t have a sucker of a roommate.”

“Hey,” Lance scolded weakly. “She won you over with her fluffiness.”

“Lance,” Keith said a moment later.

“Yeah?”

When Keith didn’t continue, Lance lifted his head and looked back at him.

“What?”

Keith frowned. “I’m going to do something,” he said, almost like it was an announcement. “If it’s weird, let’s just agree to never talk about it again. Okay?”

“Well. Maybe don’t do it then.” Lance yawned. “It’s been a day of weird stuff.”

Keith’s frown twitched and then he was smiling again. “That’s why I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Oh. You know.”

Lance was about to say that he didn’t know, and then Keith kissed him.

 

* * *

 

 

(The night before, Lance had been so drunk he had forgotten how to work their lock.

Admittedly, it had taken Keith a while to figure it out too, but that’s a different story.

“It’s late,” Keith grumbled when he opened the door. He paused. “You’re late.”

Lance gasped, and then giggled. “Hunk told me to go away.”

“I don’t blame him,” Keith said and pulled him by his sleeve. “Go to bed, weirdo.”

“Did I win?” Lance sighed, kicking off his shoes as he wandered to his bed. Keith watched him, leaning against the door and waiting for the room to stop spinning.

“Win what?”

“Win over you.” Lance flopped onto his bed with a groan. He rolled over. “Yeah. I totally did. I beat you.”

“Beat me at _what_?”

Lance sat up and started tugging at his socks. Keith rolled his eyes and went to help him, dropping heavily onto the edge of Lance’s bed.

“Hate socks,” Lance muttered.

“Nice,” Keith said, when he couldn’t think of anything better. He tugged Lance’s sock the rest of the way off and balled it up, throwing it across the room. Lance laughed.

He had a nice laugh. It wasn’t fair.

They got the other sock off and then it took both of them to get Lance under the covers. Lance groaned.

“Drinking’s dumb,” he said, half into his pillow.

“‘s not fun,” Keith agreed, tucking the blankets around Lance.

Lance laughed again.

“You have a nice laugh,” Keith said. He paused. “And eyes. You’ve got pretty eyes.”

“Thanks,” Lance sighed, beaming at him. “You’re nice when you’re not mean.”

“I guess.” He tucked the blankets tighter around Lance’s shoulders. “Good night, Lance.”

“‘night.”

Lance was sweaty, and red-faced, and splotchy-eyed. Keith smiled and brushed a stray hair from Lance’s forehead. His smile grew when it flopped back into place.

“What?” Lance asked, sounding sleepy and heavy.

Keith was sobering too quickly. “Nothing,” he said, and pulled his hand back. “Just—“ His head spun.

“Yeah?” Lance asked and turned his head into his pillow to hide a yawn.

“I like you,” Keith admitted. Lance blinked at him. Keith grimaced. “That’s probably bad.”

“Probably isn’t,” Lance sniffed. “Tell me tomorrow.”

“What?”

Lance yawned again and shuffled further into his bed. “Tell me tomorrow, you—you mullet.”

“Oh,” Keith said. “Okay.” He patted Lance’s shoulder, stood, and stumbled to his bed.

He was about to doze off when a semi-clear thought burst into his drink-addled brain. “Lance,” he said into the dark. “Lance.”

Lance snored.

Keith swallowed. “Lance,” he tried again. “And then what? After I tell you?”

Lance snored some more.

Keith pulled his blankets over his head and was awake for hours, feeling his own drunkenness melt away and into something very much like panic.)

 

* * *

 

 

The longer Lance looked at him, the redder Keith’s face got.

“What?” Lance said. “What?”

Keith was a lot more than pink by now. “I like you,” he said.

Lance stared. Something clicked. “Is that why you’re raising a hamster with me?”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Lance gestured wordlessly towards Red’s cage. “The hamster! The food!”

“I guess?” Keith shrugged. “I’m being nice?”

Lance gaped. He supposed that was _technically_ true.

Keith squirmed. His fingers tapped silently against their carpeted floor. “Well,” he said, and his expression shifted into something vaguely determined. Kind of like the face he made when he was picking between two disgusting dinner options in the cafeteria. “I like you. So I’m going to ask you out.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.” Keith paused. He shrugged. “Want to go out with me?”

Lance managed not to scream. Instead, he squeaked out a: “sure.”

And Keith smiled.

 

* * *

 

(Later, Lance fell asleep in Keith’s bed with his head in Keith’s lap, and Red rolled about their room in her new ball. Keith kept careful watch.

It snowed.)

  


   

 

   

 

   

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my first-year classmates who literally abandoned a hamster in a park because they weren’t allowed to keep it in residence. shrug emoji.


End file.
